Thursday, May 28, 2009
Holy Canoli, Batman! I got a JOB!
I am in utter shock, actualy, and am quelling the thoughts that this is all a joke, or that something can still happen to take it away from me.
This morning, I went in for my interview with the bank that is located within the Walmart nearest my home. I had low expectations. I was pleasantly surprised by what I saw and heard. C, the manager, walked me down to the Subway on the other end of the building to talk, and essentially sold the company as the best place in the world he's ever worked for. He was quite positive and upbeat about the company's policies and security, and emphasized that he felt very strongly about keeping a positive attitude in the workplace, particularly since they have to work in a small space, and everyone needs to get along. He also stressed that he feels it's important for managers to participate in all the duties that everyone else has to do, so there's no heirarchy of duties for the employees--if I have to do it, so does he, eventually. They wear uniforms--which sucks, in a way. It does take a lot of pressure off in regards to keeping a decent work wardrobe, and I suspect that eventually it will annoy me, but it's tolerable. We talked at length about the dichotomy of their work environment--the stuffy, uber-professional stereotype of a bank mixed with the errr, "salt of the earth" customers who regularly shop at Wal-Mart. As an outsider, the mix piques my curiousity--I wonder how long it'll be before I'm sick of the Wal-Mart Carnies? LOL!
Anyway, one of the things they are looking for was someone who could tolerate the ambient noise level and still concentrate on counting out cash and keeping a drawer balanced, and I just laughed--"I have two kids. You have to be able to tune them out or you'd never get anything done." It got really loud in the Subway while we talked, and I managed to continue the conversation without missing a beat. He was impressed, because before he finished his list of subjects to discuss, he was already asking if I could come back that afternoon to talk with a regional manager, who'd be in after lunch.
I came home, watched a little TV with Rusty, went back and talked to D, who was equally enthusiastic about both her job and this wonderful company that has treated her so well, sold me even more on their business model and pretty much rubber-stamped C's decision to hire me, offered me $1 more per hour than I'm making at my current job (plus the guarantee of full-time hours), and when can I start? I got a form to take a drug test and was on my way, too shellshocked to think straight.
I came home, had lunch, then went to the clinic to pee in a cup.
Then this afternoon, I had one more errand to run: I had to get a mammogram. I'm finally "at that certain age", you know, and my doctor insisted I have a baseline done. I had heard so many horror stories, I was really concerned that it would be painful. Turned out to be nothing at all, just a squeeze. Well, not that I'm particularly FOND of old ladies tugging on my boobs, you know, but all in all, it was a breeze. So now I wait for "up to two weeks" before I get a letter telling me the results.
I am in utter shock, actualy, and am quelling the thoughts that this is all a joke, or that something can still happen to take it away from me.
This morning, I went in for my interview with the bank that is located within the Walmart nearest my home. I had low expectations. I was pleasantly surprised by what I saw and heard. C, the manager, walked me down to the Subway on the other end of the building to talk, and essentially sold the company as the best place in the world he's ever worked for. He was quite positive and upbeat about the company's policies and security, and emphasized that he felt very strongly about keeping a positive attitude in the workplace, particularly since they have to work in a small space, and everyone needs to get along. He also stressed that he feels it's important for managers to participate in all the duties that everyone else has to do, so there's no heirarchy of duties for the employees--if I have to do it, so does he, eventually. They wear uniforms--which sucks, in a way. It does take a lot of pressure off in regards to keeping a decent work wardrobe, and I suspect that eventually it will annoy me, but it's tolerable. We talked at length about the dichotomy of their work environment--the stuffy, uber-professional stereotype of a bank mixed with the errr, "salt of the earth" customers who regularly shop at Wal-Mart. As an outsider, the mix piques my curiousity--I wonder how long it'll be before I'm sick of the Wal-Mart Carnies? LOL!
Anyway, one of the things they are looking for was someone who could tolerate the ambient noise level and still concentrate on counting out cash and keeping a drawer balanced, and I just laughed--"I have two kids. You have to be able to tune them out or you'd never get anything done." It got really loud in the Subway while we talked, and I managed to continue the conversation without missing a beat. He was impressed, because before he finished his list of subjects to discuss, he was already asking if I could come back that afternoon to talk with a regional manager, who'd be in after lunch.
I came home, watched a little TV with Rusty, went back and talked to D, who was equally enthusiastic about both her job and this wonderful company that has treated her so well, sold me even more on their business model and pretty much rubber-stamped C's decision to hire me, offered me $1 more per hour than I'm making at my current job (plus the guarantee of full-time hours), and when can I start? I got a form to take a drug test and was on my way, too shellshocked to think straight.
I came home, had lunch, then went to the clinic to pee in a cup.
Then this afternoon, I had one more errand to run: I had to get a mammogram. I'm finally "at that certain age", you know, and my doctor insisted I have a baseline done. I had heard so many horror stories, I was really concerned that it would be painful. Turned out to be nothing at all, just a squeeze. Well, not that I'm particularly FOND of old ladies tugging on my boobs, you know, but all in all, it was a breeze. So now I wait for "up to two weeks" before I get a letter telling me the results.
Comments:
Post a Comment
